


The Last King of Kilvas

by MagalaBee



Category: Fire Emblem: Soen no Kiseki/Akatsuki no Megami | Fire Emblem Path of Radiance/Radiant Dawn
Genre: F/M, Game Spoilers, Post-Game, pregnancy mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:35:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28397793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagalaBee/pseuds/MagalaBee
Summary: No matter how many times Naesala told himself that this was for the best, he still found it difficult to sign the final treaty. He wanted Kilvas to start a new future, but he struggled to see a vision of it.Leanne, on the other hand, was far more confident of what was in store.
Relationships: Leanne & Naesala (Fire Emblem), Leanne/Naesala (Fire Emblem)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 22





	The Last King of Kilvas

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written for the FE Writers Zine!! It was so much fun to write and I WEEP!!! I love these two and finally having an excuse to write about their epilogue makes me so emotional and happy.

Naesala wasn’t usually one for nervous fidgeting. He had gotten so good at lying in his adulthood that he’d learned how to properly hide any of his anxious energy and fold it into his cool, amused facade. A king had to always seem calm and collected, he had learned. No one felt secure when they saw their leader pacing and twitching like a tree branch in a wind storm. 

But Naesala wasn’t a king anymore, was he? His index finger idly tapped against the desk table as he stared at the document before him. It was an elaborate document, made from thick scrolled parchment with formal ink writing and Tibarn’s large, striking signature at the bottom. Rafiel had signed it too, his delicate calligraphy work dwarfed by the Phoenicis king’s writing. 

There was an empty spot for him, right above the three royal seals of the bird tribes. Once he signed it, then all would be done with. The tribes would be united once more.

Naesala sighed. He had dreamed of being free of the crown for years, but now that the opportunity finally presented itself, he found that guilt weighed heavy on his shoulders. In a way, he was signing his entire people over. Years of culture and history and pride would disappear in the shadow of hawk wings. The United Tribes of Phoenicis… that was just another way of getting rid of the Kilvasi.

“Your heart is very sour,” Leanne mentioned. Naesala blinked and looked up. He hadn’t heard her coming down the hallway.

“Don’t mind me,” he waved a hand, flexing and clenching his other one to keep it from that nervous tapping. But his wings ruffled unconsciously, showing his anxious energy all the clearer. “I’m just… finishing up my last tasks as royalty.”

Leanne strode into the room, coming to sit on the edge of his desk, perching delicately with her long white feathers cascading down the side of his desk. She looked down at the contract too, humming under her breath as she did. Her own brother had signed over Serenes already, but there was little left to give to the unification. Land, mostly, though Reyson was making detailed arrangements with Tibarn about a Heron Cultural Committee to instate some of Serenes’s traditions to the new country they were building.

She brushed her fingers over the blank space at the bottom. “Having second thoughts?”

Naesala shrugged and pulled his wings in tight against his back. Leanne could read him like a book, she had always been able to do so. “Maybe.”

Leanne smiled softly and moved her hand to cup his cheek. “A bit late for that, no?” she asked, her modern tongue had gotten so much better in recent years, though she still had an enchanting accent. The slightest sing-song lilt in her voice that he loved. “There’s a festival starting outside, to celebrate the unification.”

“I know, but…” Naesala hesitated. “It feels like, in a way, it was all for nothing.”

“How so?”

“All those years spent under the yoke of the blood pact,” Naesala muttered, leaning his head against Leanne’s hand. His eyes closed and his brows pursed together. “I did so many horrible things to keep the people of Kilvas safe, and yet… when I sign this treaty, there won’t be a Kilvas anymore.”

“The island isn’t going anywhere,” Leanne mused, her thumb gently caressing his cheek.

“Yes, but as a people? We’ll all be Phoenicians. I can’t help feeling like the king who’s sold away his people.”

“Hmmmmm… Well, do you see my brother in the same way?” she asked.

“Rafiel?”

Leanne nodded. “He was the King of Serenes when Father passed. He signed the treaty too. Do you think he has sold away his country and culture?”

“Of course not,” Naesala assured her. “Your brother did what he had to in order to save what remains of Serenes. I’m happy for him, he’s free to return to Hatari now without any lingering burdens, he’s done a good thing.”

“Ah, so then why are you holding yourself to such a different standard?” she asked softly. “You’re doing what you think is best for the preservation of Kilvas. Do you think that your people would be holding a festival if they were unhappy with such a decision? They’re happy too, Naesala. They see this as a long-awaited peace.”

As usual, Leanne had a point. Naesala still wasn’t sure what he’d ever done to deserve her, but he was grateful all the same. Against every good advice, she had married him three years ago and there had not been a day since that Naesala hadn’t felt calm in his own skin. Leanne made him feel grounded, more like himself and less like a mummer in a criminal’s mask.

“You’re right,” he sighed, lifting his own hand to frame hers, holding her palm against his face. “You’re always right.”

That made Leanne giggle. “Good of you to notice. It’s a bit too late for you to back out now. Sanaki is expecting us to arrive in two days, and she’d be disappointed if you were late.”

Naesala shook his head, smirking. “Goddess help me, I know. She’s become rather demanding in her adolescence.”

“It’s not bad for her to be more confident,” Leanne reminded him. “You just need to be less flippant.”

“I only  _ pretend _ to be flippant,” Naesala chuckled. “You know that. Underneath it all, I’m actually quite serious.”

“Then prove it,” Leanne countered, using her free hand to tap the empty space on the treaty. “Finish what you started, oh Last King of Kilvas.”

The poetic title felt like a knife in his ribs, but it was one Naesala deserved. He had a bad habit of building up his own actions in his mind. Assigning undue responsibility and accountability. Leanne was right, if Rafiel wasn’t selling off the last pieces of Heron pride, then he wasn’t selling off every Raven either.

Maybe he was just bitter because this hadn’t been an option when the blood pact transferred to him. Naesala never had the option of going to Tibarn and Reyson and brokering a means of peace. The king before him had tried a similar agreement with Goldoa, but when the Senators found out they triggered the plague, killing thousands. Blood pacts didn’t allow for loopholes or abdications. 

But the past was the past, and it did him little good to linger on it. There was a future to chase down. One with his wife, in the green gardens of Begnion’s capital.

Naesala liked to think about Leanne there, in all her grace and beauty. She had already voiced an interest in developing a botanical garden, and he could only imagine it being a success. While he worked in the shadows to dismantle the last of the underground slave trade, Leanne would accustom the beorc to their new laguz dignitaries through her gardens and her arts. She would be adored, he had no doubt.

“Alright,” he sighed, picking the quill back up. Leanne let her hand fall from his cheek, watching as he leaned forward and stared down at the treaty. His quill touched on the parchment but Naesala froze again.

The scar on his wrist where the blood pact used to be burnt into his skin began to itch. He thought of his dead cousins and uncle. The previous king and everyone else who had died in the blood plague before he had become king. 

“This is the right thing… isn’t it?” Naesala asked, his voice very quiet. “I’m not signing away our history, am I?”

“No, love,” Leanne murmured. She placed her hand delicately over her stomach and smiled. “You’re just making room for a new future.”

While Leanne was not explicit in her words, the implication was clear. She was pregnant, they were going to have a child. For a moment, he could only stare at her, every other thought leaving his head.

“Are you...?”

“Yes,” she assured him. “I’m very sure. I can sense its little heartbeat growing stronger every day.”

Naesala felt like he had been punched in the gut. Despite being married for three years and having discussed the idea of children with her before, he felt entirely unprepared for this. They had certainly been intimate, rather frequently and passionately, but somehow Naesala had neglected to consider that they might actually conceive a child in it all. He had been a bit distracted by everything else.

“You little sneak,” he sputtered. “How long have you known?”

“Only a week,” she murmured. “I wanted it to be a surprise, and with all the festivities being planned around the unification, I thought… what better time to tell you than now? When our nations are becoming one.”

Naesala was amazed, and rather than looking at the damned treaty, he was now staring transfixed at his wife’s abdomen. She was too early along to be showing yet, but she could sense the baby’s heartbeat. That meant it must be there, strong and growing. His child.  _ Their  _ child. A baby who would be born equal parts raven as heron.

He could see what she meant about the future. What real difference would it make which tribe someone came from? If they were all one nation… then they could simply be.

There would be more space for a child-like theirs in the new United Phoenicis. 

Naesala signed the document, his signature sharp and swift, with each runic letter flowing to the next. It would be sent back to Tibarn in the morning and the process would be complete. But now that it was signed, Naesala could hardly care about the piece of parchment. He dropped his quill and stood from his desk, immediately setting his arms on either side of Leanne.

“I can’t believe I didn’t notice,” he teased, leaning in close and beginning to pepper kisses along her cheeks, her nose, her lips, her chin. “Look at you, you’re glowing--”

Leanne laughed, sliding off the desk and into his arms. She placed one hand behind his neck, her fingers toying with the hair on the nape of his neck. Naesala’s wings flexed outward in excitement. 

“It’s alright, you’ve had much on your mind,” she said. “And I wanted to surprise you.”

“I nearly fainted,” Naesala said before she guided his hand to her stomach. More mindful of her condition now, he let his calloused palm linger on her and noticed the ever so slight roundness beginning to develop. Suddenly the garden he imagined his wife building included a second pair of snowy white wings and the little laughter of a baby in her arms. “I love you,” he whispered. “I always have.”

“I know,” Leanne whispered back. “I love you too, Naesala.”

His lips found hers and held there, the two of them entwined in one another’s arms. Naesala felt it easier to breathe when her own breath was on his skin. There was no urge to fidget or fly when he held her. 

Outside, Naesala could faintly hear music beginning. The drums and pipes and lutes wafted on the Kilvasi wind, bringing sounds of celebrations in through the windows. 

“Mmmmm~” he hummed against her lips, their noses still brushing together as he spoke. “It’s about time we went out there, isn’t it?”

“I think so,” Leanne murmured. “We have something to celebrate as well.”

“Right. To the new future ahead of us.”

“To a better world... and our family.”


End file.
